The Hourglass Reappears
Ibel, who had been gazing up at the angel statue in silence, closed her eyes and clasped her hands together.
If you have something to say, say it now.
What on earth was that hourglass? Why had she defied death? Had there been others like her? If it wasn't the power of God, then what? If she was a demon, strike her down with divine punishment now.
Nothing much changed after her prayer, but she hadn't expected much anyway, so Ibel shrugged it off.
If God wouldn't provide answers, she'd have to find them elsewhere.
"Mother, have you ever heard of anyone with... mysterious powers?"
"Mysterious powers? Well... There were witches back when I was young, but I wonder if any are left now."
"Witches?"
The word was so unexpected that Ibel's eyes widened.
She half-thought it was a joke, but Mrs. Eberstein was surprisingly serious.
"Women of gypsy origin. They made potions and told fortunes. I don't know if they truly had mystical powers, but they brewed love potions that worked so well, young ladies would sneak off to see them behind their parents' backs."
That's just a con artist...
For someone who believed in modern science and medicine, things like fortunes and potions were utterly incomprehensible.
Because they made no sense.
Mrs. Eberstein chuckled at Ibel's expression.
"Most were probably frauds, but there was one. She made remedies that actually worked quite well. And her prophecies... they often came true."
"Ah..."
"Her name was Baba Elfa. She lived in a tiny coastal village down south. Daughter of a fisherman, they said. Rumors had it she'd met a mermaid as a child and gained the gift of prophecy."
What a perfect setup to scam the uneducated.
I'll just commit it to memory for now. No need to rush off and find her. No credibility anyway.
The hourglass hadn't reappeared since the day Lucas arrived. Time hadn't rewound either.
Ibel wanted to learn more about her regression—not out of idle curiosity, but because she didn't want to lose this life.
If all the bonds she'd built in this lifetime crumbled to dust, even she might not endure it.
Leaving the cathedral and returning to the estate, a pleasant surprise awaited.
Giev's sister, Lesa, had arrived.
Ibel's clinic.
"Cough, thank you... thank you."
"I'll have warm honey tea for you every day, so drink it morning and night. Right now, we need to build your strength first."
"Yes, I will... Cough, thank you."
Giev's little sister was terribly thin and short. Her skin was rough, her lips bloodless and white, cracked and peeling.
Classic symptoms of malnutrition.
"This medicine will taste bitter, but you must finish it all. We'll start with soft foods for meals, and you can have more anytime you're hungry—just don't eat too fast."
Lesa would enter service as a maid once she recovered.
With quality meals, good clothes, and a clean environment, she'd improve bit by bit.
Ibel would make the medicine for free, so there'd be no burden.
The sister Giev had worried over until his death would live healthily this time.
"Thank you."
Taking Lesa's hand, Ibel led her out of the clinic, where Giev waited.
Ibel gazed at the man bowing deeply to her, then replied gently.
"Don't worry about a thing. Everything will be fine."
"...Yes."
"So lift your head. I love poetry too, so I'd be grateful if you'd let me read yours first."
She hadn't spoken to him this way before.
A trace of bitterness lingered, but Ibel swallowed it quickly.
If she could see his face up close like this and look after him, that was enough.
"And you? Any pain anywhere? I noticed you limping before."
"My ankle's a bit off, but not worth troubling over."
"Still, better to check it."
"You can read bones?"
I learned the hard way.
Ibel didn't answer, simply reopening the clinic door.
My heart's pounding.
The day she died—the day the bombardment fell—Lucas had been shot. And Giev's ankle had broken.
That day of death is the key. If someone nearby bore scars or injuries from then, traces remain when time rewinds.
But that raised questions.
Victor's back was so badly scarred. Why no traces from the wound that pierced both him and her?
What was the range?
Did everyone near her on the day she died carry scars?
There seems to be some rule to it.
Examining Giev's ankle this way and that, Ibel fetched bandages.
"Best to stay off it for a while. Minimize use, and it'll heal. I'll have the kitchen send bone-friendly meals, so think of yourself as a patient."
"...Is there nothing you can't do?"
Giev stared at his ankle with a stunned expression.
Her skill was remarkably proficient—not the work of a novice.
To Giev, Ibel seemed an exceedingly noble lady.
Yet she could do this. A doctor, no less.
He never dreamed he'd receive hands-on treatment from such refined hands, and it was simply unbelievable.
And at that very moment,
Ibel couldn't respond to Giev's words.
"...!"
The hourglass had reappeared.
But unlike before, it didn't thrust itself before her eyes. Instead, light seeped from her fingertips, shaping into the hourglass.
Like a cat peeking out, as if to say, You called?
"Madam?"
Giev tilted his head at Ibel's frozen silence.
Ibel stared blankly at the hourglass until it melted back into her body, snapping her to her senses.
So, scars, pain, or wounds that Victor or I recognize are the trigger?
That made sense.
Sorting the cases in her mind, Ibel resolved to ask Dominik and Florian about any aches too.
"Giev, did you see a hourglass?"
"Pardon?"
"The air feel warmer? Anything change? Eyes dazzled?"
"...I don't follow."
I see.
Only she could see it.
Then,
"Madam, the butler."
"What is it?"
After a polite knock, the butler opened the door.
His somewhat stiff expression signaled no good news.
To the tense Ibel, he spoke slowly.
"His Majesty the King has sent a wedding gift. You should see it."
"Victor, a gift arrived?"
Good lord, how many things could happen in one day?
Stepping into the front yard, an envoy stood in ridiculous courtly attire.
Behind him, two horses were tethered—fine thoroughbreds at a glance.
"His Majesty is most gracious."
Victor silently inspected the saddles, making no effort to hide his displeasure.
Still, he gave a curt nod.
"Accept them. The boys just started riding lessons; they'll do nicely."
The problem came next.
The queen's gift.
At the envoy's gesture, attendants wheeled out a massive cloth-covered object on a cart.
One could only imagine the ordeal of transporting such a behemoth from the capital.
"Her Majesty bids you install this blessed statue in your garden, facing your marital bedchamber, for it will aid your wedded life."
What?
Ibel furrowed her brow at the absurdity.
A statue facing the bedroom? That was beyond strange.
Who gifts something like that?
And the silhouette beneath the cloth looked downright ominous.
"We won't."
Victor replied flatly.
But his voice was colder than ever.
"You've delivered it. Leave."
"Ah, s-sire, she commanded me to oversee the installation..."
The envoy sweated profusely, glancing at Victor.
Poor pawn caught between powers.
But Ibel had no intention of defending him here.
And in that instant, Victor stepped forward.
"You're overstepping."